#about dicktim

When he tries to get down with a little detecting, his team has a bad habit of not leaving him the fuck alone. Kon hovers while he’s gathering evidence, Bart pretty much runs all over it, Cassie never wears gloves and touches everything. Raven and Gar leave it to him because they know all about the Robins. Even Miguel has a bad habit of tainting evidence just by leaning over while he’s eating something and getting crumbs or sauce in the samples.

So, little by little, Red has been trying to get his team on board with good detective practices.

Case in point: he’s got Kon with him tonight, a fake boyfriend to take in front of Gotham’s elite so they can hopefully dig up some dirt and have tasty hors d'oeuvres at the same time.

The hair stands up on the back of his neck several times in the first hour, his inner vigilante sense kicking in because he knows someone was watching him.

He leans into Kon, the arm around his back tightening as he leans closer to breath against Kon’s ear. “Pick up anything?”

Kon pushes his glasses up while leaning down to nuzzle at Tim’s ear. “A few blank spots, nothing substantial.”

“There shouldn’t be any lead down here.”

“Your office another story, Mr. CEO?”

“You know it. Keep your guard up. Some of these debutants are ruthless.”

“Glad I have you to lead me through this, Red.”

The two of them make rounds with Kon playing the sweet bumbling college student dating successful CEO Tim Drake, and the pressure of being watched follows them.

It gets more weird as the night wears on. 

Tim’s favorite finger foods come out on the next round, none of which were on the menus he approved two weeks ago. The TV screens around the ballroom with scrolling photos of Wayne Enterprises friends and family switch to just pictures of the CEO in his office, in R&D, doing paperwork, standing up to present at a board meeting. Cans of grape Zesti could be found on the beverage tables. An unsuspecting tablet sitting close to Tim’s hip just appears, catching their eye when a short code appears for just a moment and is gone. The perfect puzzle for a detective.

Tim finally gets the message and sweeps the tablet up, makes some excuses, and leaves Kon in the hallway while he slips into his office.

It takes about five minutes to unlock the tablet, longer than he thought it would, but still.

Tim sighs gently, waiting for something fucked up to pop up on the screen, a video from Ra’s or the General, hell, even Lonnie at this juncture.

(The criminals obsessed with him really should say something about his style of crime fighting, but Tim isn’t even going to focus on that now.)

Instead, the tables flashes with his own insignia and Tim gasps—

Because he can’t move.

Whatever hypnotic suggestion was programmed into the tablet is effective when he doesn’t have the domino with whiteout or the suit. He can’t move, talk, or yell, his office is enmeshed in lead, and Kon wouldn’t know any better.

Everything makes sense when the gloved hand sliding over the back of his neck pauses, squeezes tight.

Fucking Ra’s.

“You’ve been very, very bad, Mr. Drake,” warm breath against his ear. Everything in Tim freezes, gets cold, when he realizes who actually sprung the trap.

The hand moves down his back, down his spine, over the nice suit coat, grips at his hip.

“Bringing the clone?” Renegade pulls Tim’s hips back into the front of his body. “You wanted to get my attention that badly, did you?”

Tim can’t even swallow the acrid taste in his mouth as Renegade’s mouth brushes against his neck, tightens the grip on his hips.

“I know what you were trying to do,” the villain chuckles lightly against skin, sending chills down his spine. “Bring your little boyfriend out in society, maybe catch a criminal tonight, hm?”

Those hands move, slide around the front of Tim’s body, touch him with breathy moans. “Too bad, I’m the one that caught you instead.”

One hand cups him between the legs, the other slides up his chest.

“Did you like my gifts? I made sure you had all your favorites tonight.”

The gloved hand grips his chin, turns his face to meet the whiteouts, “I’ve got them all at home waiting for you, my little Robin.” And Renegade smiles, wide and white, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the frozen CEO’s mouth. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you never go anywhere alone again.”

When Superboy finally gets enough waiting outside for Red Rob to figure out the tablet, he pushes the door to the office open, ready to throw off the disguise and do a little punch-smack-grab rather than investigate-research-review—

—the office is completely empty.